Clouds Shall Cover the Sun
by Chaos In Her Wake
Summary: Twenty-six years ago, the districts' rebellion was crushed and the system of the Hunger Games was instilled. Sol Ebony, from District Five, is shoved into the arena at a clear disadvantage. The odds are most certainly NOT in her favor. T for Games gore :
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! This is my first fanfiction, so I am extra grateful to you for reading it. Reviews would be amazing, and I will give you a virtual brownie for using your time to write one. ;) This story is actually based off a dream I had and wrote down that morning, so it will go up fast! Hope you enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games, however much I envy Suzanne Collins for that honor. :)**

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><p>Twenty-six years ago, the districts' rebellion was crushed, and the system of the Hunger Games was instilled. Punishment for trying to split a harmonious nation, the Capitol called it. I can understand it- I mean, what country wants to be divided against itself? I even admired its sophistication; it provided entertainment for loyal Capitol citizens and punishments for the districts. That is, I admired it until last year, the Quarter Quell, where we were forced to vote on the tributes who would play in the Hunger Games. My life was forever sorrowful after those votes were counted.<p>

In District Five, we produce power for the Capitol, so we have a lot of extra time and people. Since most of that 'extra' goes to education, District Five's schools rival even the Capitol's. Some genius decided that we should choose the strongest and smartest kids- the ones with the best chances of winning. Two eighteen-year-olds were sent as tributes, and one of them was my brother. I remember feeling so proud when we saw his training score flashed onscreen, a huge, glowing ten. The arena was a barren island, with only thick mists as cover. Everything for survival was heaped in the Cornucopia, and only the ten-foot radius around the golden horn was free from poisonous, aggressive muttations. Fourteen died in the initial battle, and the four Careers who came out alive were bathed in blood, coining the phrase 'initial bloodbath'. Our instructors cringed at the gory scene unfolded. One of the Careers split a skull with his heavy mace, causing a scream to wrench forth from the classroom next to mine. Our female tribute was down, and so were my classmates' spirits. I watched as my dear brother Orion sliced his way to the Cornucopia with a single spearhead, even cutting down one of the Careers! Night was beginning to fall, and he managed to procure a throwing axe and a pack of food and water. His break for the mists was halted when a giant snake-mutt reared up in front of him. It was swiftly beheaded, but not swiftly enough. A career's blade flew from behind and lodged itself into Orion's back. His cannon roared before my mother and I, safely at home, had time to scream. Any respect I once had for the Games vanished, killed by the same knife as my brother.

"Sol?" I snap back to the present. My mother motions to the barren field on the right. "Watch out for the geyser fields." District Five has five sectors, one for each type of energy we produce. My family lives in Solar, and many of the children are given names that go with their sector's theme. We in Solar are furthest from the black fumes of Coal and therefore furthest from the Justice Building. Traveling there means walking through Wind, Geothermal, and most of Coal. We only make this exhausting journey on Reaping Day. I spend the remainder of the walk thinking about my brother, and how I should aspire to not earn his fate.

At the reaping, I stand with perhaps three hundred other girls on a fenced- off platform. I locate my closest friend Bright and we stand together near the back of the crowd, jostling each other and looking over the other girls who might be taken to slaughter. Well, I am, anyway; Bright is jabbering away in my ear about the 'cute' boys in another fenced-off area on the other side of the square. The smokestacks that usually pump coal fumes into the air are quiet. The capitol representative who will select the tributes' names is strutting around another stage. This one is done with gaudy paint and yards of fabric so colorful it pains my eyes. So is his stage. Last year's reaper was promoted to one of the Career districts for 'choosing' such handsome tributes. This one starts into his cheery spiel about the honor of being reaped for the Games, the importance of duty, blah blah blah. I only tune back in when he squeals, "Ladies first!" His tattooed fingers reach into the girls' ball and close around a slip of paper. The girls around me seem to draw a collective breath as the man unfolds it. "Sol Ebony!" That's a nice name. Pity she'll-

That's me. My mother screams. Both of her children, lost to the Games. Bright nudges me forward, and I stagger down the steps from my platform and across to the man from the Capitol. I'm numb from shock. No one volunteers. Bright's eyes are filling up with tears. Should I kill myself now, or let someone else do it later? Later, definitely. Live while you can. The man pulls a slip of paper from the boys' bowl.

"Falcon Mountcliff!" A dark-haired boy pushes his way up to the representative. He looks to be about seventeen, about six feet tall, and seriously muscular. I see a girl start sobbing as he faces the crowd. His sister? Maybe his girlfriend? The rest of the ceremony is a blur. My mother comes to visit me in the hour before they ship us to the Capitol. For at least twenty minutes, we simply sit crying and hugging each other. Then she stands, kisses my forehead, and turns to leave.

"I love you, Sol," she whispers. I tell her I love her too. Bright charges in next, and she babbles on about how I will definitely win and it's too bad Falcon got reaped because she thinks he's cute and then she hugs me and breezes out again. Then my father strides into the room. I don't get to see him much, since he works in the power plants. The last twenty minutes are spent in much the same way as the first. Finally the guard tells him to leave.

"I love you, Dad." He gives me one last kiss, and brushes a tear from my eye.

"Be strong, Sol," he manages. Then I hear a train whistle and the guards hustle me away from my life.

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><p><strong>There you go, first chapter! Again, thanks for reading and reviews are appreciated. :)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

I press my face against the train window, watching mountainous District Two zoom by. The seat I sit in is cushioned and warm, and by the time the train screeches to a halt the click of the wheels has lulled me to sleep. "Sol?" I jerk awake as a hand is laid on my shoulder. "We're here. We have to go watch the reapings and eat supper," Falcon says as I stretch lazily. The extravagance of the Capitol hits me full-force in the face as I step off the train. Dazzling rainbow-colored buildings extend forever in all directions, and people who look like garish paintings bustle past, utterly absorbed in their meandering lives. Falcon leads me to a building covered in images from past Hunger Games that seems to brush the sky- the Tribute Tower. Attached to the back, there is a huge dome where we will train for the Games.

The inside of the tower is just as lavish as the outside. There is a floor-to-ceiling portrait of last year's victor, Atticus from One, in the lobby. Falcon directs me to an elevator and jabs the button for floor five. When the door opened, there were four people awaiting us- Pairo, the only victor from Five and therefore our mentor; the Capitol representative who chose our names from the reaping balls; and two stylists, the ones who would pretty us up for slaughter. Then the reality of my situation decides to sink in. I am going into the Hunger Games. I am going to provide entertainment with death. I will probably die. Now I'm starting to hyperventilate. That is, until I see the meal prepared for us.

All thoughts of death immediately vanish from my mind. Three tables are sagging with the weight of a feast. Savory meats are arranged in delicate patterns on huge platters; loaves of rich bread are heaped along the tables in massive displays. Fruits ripe to the point of bursting are piled in pristine bowls all around the room. The aroma of sweet soups and spicy stews tantalizes my tastebuds. And there! At the other end of the room there is another table devoted entirely to desserts. However, I only take a bowl of steaming, rich broth and a buttery roll from the banquet set before me. Pairo and Falcon look at me like I'm insane. Their plates are spilling over with the Capitol's decadent dishes. "What? I don't want to make myself sick!" I protest. They roll their eyes and commence to dig in.

After everyone was done stuffing themselves, the representative introduced us to our stylists. 'Sol, this is your stylist Fali." A petite woman with purple hair, green eyelids, and a tattoo of an ivy vine curling around her arm waggles her fingers in my direction. Falcon was put under the direction of Tigris, an even smaller woman who seemed to be, well, half feline. The dessert table is being assaulted by Pairo now, so Hunger Games fashion is put on hold. Consequently, Pairo's chocoholic tendencies are halted by the television crackling to life in a corner. Fali claps and bounces to a cushy couch.

"Oh goody! The reapings are on!" she squeals. Oh crud, my stylist is one of those Capitol citizens who is obsessed with watching kids die horrifically! I spin around in my chair to 'meet' my fellow competitors. The face of a young man with neon yellow hair, eyelids, and lips beams out at us all. Caesar Flickerman, the very face of the Hunger Games, has arrived. His smooth announcer's voice rings out.

"It's finally here! The Hunger Games, created to keep the rebels in their place, have returned for their twenty-sixth year, and the tributes have been chosen!"

No, duh, Sunshine Face. He continues happily, "Last year was our first Quarter Quell, and wasn't that exciting, folks? We have some marvelous tributes this year too, so don't lower your expectations because of some twenty-fifth anniversary that's already a year old!" Gah, Capitol people have no idea how to entertain themselves!

The reaping recaps flash by. My mind seizes on little details, certain tributes. The giant of a boy from Two who volunteers. The nerdy-looking girl from District 3 who's dragged away from four younger girls. Jeez, I look awful on television! Lucky for me, the screams of female audience members show that everyone naturally focuses on Falcon. Then I see a girl with hair so blond it's almost white, from Ten. A pair of tearful green eyes. A clenched fist. A head hung in resignation and fear. We will all die. All but one.

The gaudy Capitol man tries to tell us about our itinerary tomorrow, but I rush to the lush room that has been prepared for me. It's already getting late, and I'm overwhelmed. Finally, I can relieve the emotion that's welling up in me. I begin sobbing; tears flow for everything that will end in the coming weeks. Before I run out of tears and hiccup myself to sleep, I hear Falcon punch the wall a few times next door.

_The giant of a boy from District Two is chasing me. I have a knife in my hand, but I can't turn around. My feet move slower and slower. Then Orion appears in front of me, and I run to him. Suddenly, he grabs my shoulders and whirls me around. "Join me, sister," He rasps, in the voice of Caesar Flickerman. The huge boy lifts a knife- exactly like the one that killed Orion._

As he brings it down over my heart, I jerk awake. I'm not yet in the arena, and my dreams are filled with the evil games of the Capitol. I crawl out of the soft bed and over to my window. It's barred, like a prison window, but I can still see the moon. At home, they are working on a device that can make electricity from moonlight. Will I return home to see it in action, or will my last sighting of the moon be in the arena?


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry the chapters are so short, but it feels sort of weird to me to combine them. Or you could just use the saying people put on t-shirts and say "They're not short, they're fun-sized." :)**

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><p>When I wake up the next day, I think I've been kidnapped. Then I realize that yes, I've basically been stolen. Standing up, I wince. I'm stiff from sleeping by the windowsill. I'm glad training doesn't start until tomorrow, although with Fali as a stylist, the chariot rides and interviews might be just as painful. I slip into a flowing dark blue shirt and khaki trousers and walk out to the tables. Only the stylists and the capitol representative- I learned his name is Ianan- are awake. Fali frowns when she sees my outfit, but she holds her tongue. She'll get her decorated hands on me later. I select several pastries and a glass of milk from the heavily laden tables and sit down. I'm just tearing into the second one when Falcon emerges from his room. I notice his knuckles are bruised from punching the wall last night. Pairo still hasn't made an appearance by the time I'm finished, so I speak up.<p>

"Where's our mentor? Isn't he supposed to tell us how to act tonight?" I ask.

"He's already gone trying to win over sponsors for you," Tigris answers," and he wants both of you to simply act friendly- share a few emotional or poignant memories, enough to make you memorable." Well, our mentor is one for talking directly to us, that's for sure… not. "Your preparation starts immediately at noon- you are not to eat lunch," Tigris rasps. Falcon and I sink into sullen moods at the order for no food. I gulp down another glass of milk and shuffle back to my room. I'm still tired from the awkward position I slept in, so I fall into bed and doze off again. I sleep peacefully this time.

"Up, up, up!" chirps Fali as she bursts into my room.

"Wh…what?" I mutter blearily. Fali nudges me into the luxurious bathroom and gets right to work. By the time she's done waxing, soaking, and brushing, I'm afflicted by intense stinging sensations. She's not done either- she shoves me into the bathtub and scrubs with a vengeance. She's probably getting revenge for my bad fashion choices this morning. If this hurts, how bad will it be in the arena? Finally I'm ready to be dressed. Fali sweeps blue highlights onto my face and paints my arms with sparkling aqua swirls. She's trying to put a foul dye on part of my hair when I rebel. "You are not dyeing my hair, woman!" I protest, but to no avail. However weak she might look, Fali is a tribute stylist. She forces my head still and coats a chunk of my dark blonde hair with the stinking dye. She's able to hold me down until the stuff sets and then she reveals my new turquoise streak. I glare at her; my glower intensifies when she brings out my outfit. A freaking _dress. _Fali shoves the pile of blue silk in my face, and I wince as I slip into the smooth material. I'm still so sore.

I look in the mirror. "Ugh," I make a face. The garment falls into ripples that make me look more mature then I really am. When I take a step back, I realize the purpose of the accursed dress. I seem to be a flowing stream. I am water. Fali murmurs appreciatively and then directs me to the elevator. The lobby bustles with former victors and Capitol citizens I suppose are sponsors; I catch a glimpse of Pairo arguing with a couple decorated entirely in neon colors. The sighting isn't long; Fali hustles me through a different door and through a winding corridor to a room with a vaulting ceiling that contains tributes and twelve chariots. Fali squeals in excitement.

"Remember you're supposed to be friendly and poignant," she squeaks, tottering away on her five-inch heels and leaving me to my own devices. The chariot closest to me has a black 12 on it and two kids in hideous coal miner costumes are standing beside it. They're both really young, two faces filled with anxiety and vestiges of innocence. They are going to die, and I hold back nausea as I rush past them. I try not to make eye contact with the twelve other soon-to-be-dead tributes that line my path to the District Five chariot. Falcon is sitting on the step to the chariot, waiting impatiently for me. He wears a simple tuxedo that's black from the knees down and gets redder as it goes up until it's bright crimson at his lapels.

"Tigris said we're supposed to be different types of energy," he explains when I glance quizzically at his outfit. He seems uncomfortable and he runs a hand through his hair, which is acting like Tigris froze it in place around his face. I nod in acknowledgement. I tug at my long skirt and twist my newly blued hair around my finger. Then a Capitol guard yells at all the tributes.

"Everyone get in the chariots!" he shouts. We all obey. As soon as we are all in place, the doors creak open. The District One chariot rolls out and the deafening screams of the crowd echo through the stadium where interviews take place. They get even louder when the second pair of tributes rides into the open. They falter a bit when the non-Career District Three kids appear, but Four is popular. Even in the idiotic fish costumes they wear. I keep my gaze on those stupid tails as our chariot lurches forward. I'm afraid I'm crack up and look insane when I see myself onscreen. It's happened before. I wave at the crowd with as much grace as I can muster when we get into the open, and the cheers reverberate in my ears. I see districts Ten and Eleven get good-sized cheers too, as the chariots continue to circle. After two more laps, we disappear back into the holding area and are ushered to the tribute seating. My knees weaken and I collapse into my chair just before I lose my balance.

Caesar Flickerman begins the interviews. The girl from District One is flirty. The boy from Two is blunt. The girl from 4 is tough. As I stand to join Flickerman, Pairo leans forward from his seat behind me and hisses, "Be friendly, girl!" I walk stiffly to the center of the stadium.

"And here is District Five, Sol Ebony, age fifteen, and later Falcon Mountcliff, who's seventeen!" Sunshine Face announces, "Energy, is it?" My mouth is dry and my mind has gone blank. "Your district's specialty?" I manage to nod. "So, Sol, I hear your brother participated in the Quarter Quell last year?"

"Yes," I say, and smile weakly, "Orion Ebony. He died in the bloodbath." The crowd murmurs sympathy for my parents. Hopefully that's poignant enough for Pairo. I'll be remembered now.

"Is there any special boy at home you want to return to?"

"No, not yet. My parents say I have to be sixteen," I make a face, and the audience laughs.

"Well, maybe you'll get home so you can get that special someone," Flickerman breezes on," So, what do you think the arena will bring for you, Sol?"

"Probability says death," I say, trying too hard to be funny, "Maybe I'll be enlightened!" _RING! _My time went by that fast? I walk back to my seat, sit down, and black out.

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><p><strong>All right, I know the things are not happening in the same order they do in the books, but bear with me. The order of things could easily have changed over the years between Sol's Games and Katniss's. Reviews are like candy, no matter how sour that candy is! :D SUGAR!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we go again! Welcome to training! And thanks again for reading. :)**

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><p>Falcon wakes me up again- what is it with this guy watching out for me? I've been carried back to my room from the interview stadium where I fainted, and now it's the next morning. Training starts today! I send Falcon away and pull on a matching forest-green tank top and pants. Rushing to the tables, I wolf down two pastries before Pairo starts to haul us down to the elevator. "Now, I want you both to try as many stations as possible, and scout for alliances," he gruffly instructs us. We nod curtly. Then he punches a button labeled 'A' and the elevator shifts… sideways? Unprepared, I almost lose my balance. The ride stops as suddenly as it began, and I'm tossed in the other direction. I regain my balance just as the elevators open and Pairo shoves us into the training center. The young woman in charge of training, Atala, motions us over to the rest of the tributes.<p>

"There's one rule during training- no death!" she grins and turns us loose. Boy, how encouraging! I join the two young tributes from Twelve at the edible plants station. The inquisitive girl and scrawny boy glance at me while they listen attentively to the trainer. As we strip leaves off of a vine, I begin a conversation. I figure if the tributes know me, they'll have a harder time killing me.

"Hey, I'm Sol, from Five," I introduce myself. The boy calls himself Palmer, and the girl is named Leris. I notice when we take the written test, Leris aces it and Palmer only misses two. I missed eleven. The more plants there are in the arena, the better allies these two would make. I glance around and see a pack of tributes are swordfighting, so I join in, curious. They're definitely the Careers. As I battle the girl from One, she tells me that her name is Blossom and her district partner is Storme. Blossom? Seriously? What do the parents in One smoke? Before I can ask, Blossom turns to start fighting another Career and I'm assaulted by District 4. Barely blocking their blows, I ask, "What are your names?"

"What?" the girl asks. I repeat my query, and she falters. "That's a strange question in the Games, but I'm Zell."

"I'm Reef," her partner says. He's got blue eyes and a voice that's just starting to change. I manage to knock the sword out of his hand and move on to District Two, who are the leaders of the Careers. Neither give their names, but I have a more important question.

"Can I ally with you in the arena?" The giant boy smirks.

"If your score is better than eight." Then he disarms me. I decide hanging out any longer with this kid might break Atala's rule, so I break away from Fencing. I see Falcon with two other kids at Fire-Making, so I join him. He's chatting up Three, both of whom are pretty nerdy; their names are Taylor and Chas. Taylor easily builds a fire with only wood. Now I have four alliance options.

I'm walking to Navigation when I'm accosted by the tributes from Ten. The girl, Gentia, has white-blond hair, which she tosses over her shoulder as she stares daggers at me. Her partner, Jayre, shoulders past me and turns back to smirk at me. "I'm gonna kill you, District Five!" Their strategy is obviously intimidation, and they're good at it. I turn to archery instead, which is empty. The trainer has to help me string a bow, and I can barely remember which way the bow faces. When I figure it out, I'm not that bad, with arrows peppering the target and only a few on the ground. I see the girl from Eleven- she's only twelve- approaching and I unstring the bow.

"I'm Sol," I start. The girl looks like she's been bullied, and I figure she might as well trust me.

"Azalea." She's beautiful, with hazel eyes and thick chocolate hair. Those traits will merit sponsors, unlike my fine honey hair and pale amber eyes. She's pretty, I'm not. I'll probably starve. She won't. There's a direct correlation. I meander to knives, my specialty, and chuck sharp objects at the dummy until it's time to leave.

Training continues for two more days, during which I manage to visit all the stations and introduce myself to all the tributes. Pairo says that Karic, from Nine, and District 8's girl, Aislyn, want to ally with me. I overhear him tell Falcon that the Careers want him in their group, and it makes me a little happier when he refuses. Finally it's time to get training scores. I wish they were from personal performances, but Julius Goldyn, the Head Gamemaker, doesn't like that. Our scores are based off of what we did in the three days of training. Pairo, Fali, Tigris, Ianan, Falcon, and I all sit eagerly in front of the television. Caesar Flickerman walks onscreen. "Well, everyone, the 26th Hunger Games are starting in two days, and the training scores have arrived! I give you Blossom Hendair, District One!" He doesn't even crack jokes like usual, just gives out names. The Careers all get scores between eight and eleven, and Taylor and Chas both pull sixes. Then my face is projected. What's my number? It flashes on screen. A nine! I've done it! I'm in with the Careers! District Two's faces right now must be utterly hysterical. I guess my knife throwing made up for some of the stupid tries I made at some of the stations in training. Then Falcon receives a ten. I gape- he's that good? I'll have to watch my back. He grins back at me. Six through Nine make everywhere from two to eight. Ten gets a ten and a nine, like us. Leris manages a seven.

The next days are the final days of rest, where we can write letters to our family and friends back home and get private coaching- well, we don't, because Pairo is always gone trying to sign up sponsors. I've already sent my final goodbyes home, so I try to distract myself with reading. The Tribute Tower has a magnificent library that even has copies of books from before the Dark Days, all fictional. I select one entitled _The Odyssey_. The note on the cover says that this story was ancient even before Panem existed. It's about a man's journey home, but his path has been riddled with obstacles. At the very end, he makes it home. Who will be going home from this 'obstacle'?

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><p><strong>Did the 'no private training' thing surprise anyone? And yes, I did include an Ancient Greek reference :D My nerd is showing. Next chapter they go into the arena! Please review.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Here we go! Into the arena at last! (I sound like a Capitol citizen, don't I?) Hope you like the arena (I hope you like it enough to review! :D haha), and thanks for reading.**

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><p>It takes the combined forces of Pairo, Fali, and Ianan to get me in the hovercraft the day the Games are scheduled to begin. They have to force me onboard without damaging me, which almost is a large enough advantage for me to escape. Finally, however, they hold me in the hovercraft current long enough for it to take a hold on me. Pairo growls, "Try not to die stupidly," and then stalks off to watch, presumably, other hovercrafts carry tributes to the Slaughter Pens. Technically, they're called the Launch Pads, but Slaughter Pens is so much more accurate. Fali climbs onboard and sits on the plush seat across from me. I feel like a racing dog that Fali is considering betting on as the Capitol woman stares at me, hawklike. When she begins to speak, a stream of bubbling Games propaganda that's fed to the citizens of the Capitol spills out of her mouth.<p>

"These Games will be the best yet!" she squeals as the hum of the hovercraft intensifies and we lift into the air, "I hear that the arena is the most creative ever!" I try to focus on the shimmering mother-of-pearl buildings that are flashing by beneath us, but my stomach quickly begins to wobble and I wonder how birds can manage to fly so often. I'm almost grateful when the windows black out, hiding the ground zooming by underneath the machine. Even if it means the arena is my next destination. Fali bustles to the back of the small hovercraft and retrieves a package wrapped in simple brown paper. I stand to follow her, but she's already sitting back down and the craft suddenly shudders to a stop. I'm tossed to the floor with a loud, "Whoa!" The hatch pops open and the current begins flowing. Fali prods me into the freezing airflow, where I'm transported through a metal chute to a hole in the ground. I begin panicking. I'm only comfortable on the ground- not above, not below. I'm not freed until a Capitol doctor jabs a tracker solution into my right forearm. Fali slides down the chute giggling with the brown package. She takes me into a dressing room where she opens the package to reveal the tribute outfit. Without even giving me a glance of the folded clothing, she proceeds to bustle around me, shoving articles of clothing on my body. Soon she's got me suited up in the mandatory (for this year, anyway) gray tunic, black leggings, and leather belt, boots, and jacket. Almost an everyday outfit for home! Well, at home there's no leather. My wavy hair is pulled into a high ponytail with the turquoise streak standing out on the side of my head.

I emerge and two guards close in on my sides. They flank me all the way to the tribute disc. Yet another current renders me immobile again and Fali scrutinizes me, again giving me the odd feeling that I'm something to be bought. Then she hugs me tightly, and _that_ takes first place on the awkward scale. "It's been an honor making you beautiful," she sobs. Even though it sounds like she's implying that I was hideous before she came along, I smile. Those could well be the last kind words I ever hear. The plate I stand on shifts and begins to rise, clicking into place with my hair almost brushing the ceiling. Then a circle of the ceiling above my head scrapes aside, and Claudius Templesmith's voice booms out.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Twenty-Sixth Hunger Games begin!"

It's a city. A normal, albeit dull, city. We're in a park, the Cornucopia sitting in place of a fountain. I cannot see anything around it, which means the weapons must be hidden elsewhere. I glance around the silent park. The tributes are lined along one fence of the park. I am about a fourth of the way down the line, with Range from Seven on one side and Daze from 9 on the other. Then my eye glimpses a rickety shed sitting about fifty yards away, positioned on the midpoint of the fence parallel to the tributes'. Something glints inside- the weapons. The Cornucopia blocks it from the view of the tributes in the middle of our line, taking away their advantage of proximity to the shed. If I want to be in the protection of the Career alliance, I'll have to fight at that shed.

The gong sounds. I begin the short sprint to the shed, but multiple people get there before I do. Storme recognizes me as a fellow Career and tosses me two swords when I reach the shed. He's already armed with a scimitar and a blowgun. _"Duck,"_ he mouths, and I tuck and roll to have his scimitar fly over my head and bury itself in the boy form Six's- Rhyax's- chest. First casualty of the 26th Hunger Games. I hear a scream from the other side of the shed and rush to find Hector, the giant, carving a pattern on Aislyn's face. Judging by the slices on her throat, she won't live. There goes half of District 8.

The first kill is the hardest, or so Pairo says. I must have no remorse, no pang of guilt, or I'll die soon after my victim, or even before. Two tributes are running full tilt at me now, both weak. Daze is flowery and delicate and Vecarn is all talk. Vecarn falls with my sword cleaving his brain in two. I hear Daze's scream cut off abruptly, and I know another tribute has finished her off. In the distance, I see Falcon tearing down one street and Leris turning a corner with Azalea the next block over. There's no time for chasing now, the battle and bloodlust are centered at the shed.

Blood, so much blood, seems to overpower my senses. The metallic tang, the crimson flowers assault my mind and I see scarlet life pouring out of wounds that don't even exist. The edges of my vision pulse with red. Finally, the Careers stop fighting and the violent adrenaline ebbs from my system. Then the cannon begins its mourning reverie and we clear out to let hovercrafts collect the bodies. Eight dead.

"Where's Zell?" Reef asks. We all hush while he hunts for his district partner. The hovercraft has already removed some of the bodies, and Reef's voice and motions become increasingly agitated. Finally, we come upon Zell in a corner of the dark shed. She cradles a broken body in her arms. It's our leader, the girl from 2, and Zell is crying. "Zell!" Reef rushes to her side. She lashes out at him.

"She was my friend!"

"Who killed her?" we clamor.

"That arrogant boy… the one from Eleven," Zell sobs. She could have stopped at arrogant, which is a perfect description of lanky, agile Scythe's personality. "I'm hunting him tomorrow." Thanks to Zell, we have the opportunity to collect weapons from the dead bodies. Finally we allow the hovercrafts to remove the corpses and survey our stash in the shed. As far as we know, only seven pieces were stolen. Zell prizes a deadly harpoon gun from the pile.

After we choose our weapons, Hector declares himself our new leader. "Leader," Blossom calls out sarcastically, "did you notice there's no food or water in this heap of supplies?" Hector starts to formulate a plan for obtaining nutrients, but Blossom cuts him off again. "Did we check the Cornucopia?"

Storme blanches at the idea. "It was obvious there was nothing in it," he tries to explain, but Blossom is adamant.

"Food takes up less space than weapons, you know!" She drags Hector to the golden horn and leaps inside it. When she hollers, the rest of us run to the opening. "Look," she says smugly, "There's a great stash back here." She hefts a crate of apples out of the depths of the horn.

Surviving the Games made easy.

Since I'm not from one of the Career districts, they give me first watch. I secretly think most of them stayed awake for the faces too, but I'm too focused on the sky to really care. The faces projected on the starry sky are all kids, and I know all their names. Selene, predictably, shimmers into the night first. Then Chariah, from 6. Unusual- most of the time at least one kid from Three or Five dies. Chariah's followed by Rhyax, her partner. Range, who stood next to me. Both from Eight. I killed Vecarn. His family must be calling for my blood. Daze appears. Then Palmer, the scrawny boy from Twelve. Who killed that twelve year old boy? After the Panem seal disappears, I sit in top of the Cornucopia in numb shock, the full extent of the Games' violence chilling my blood. I killed Vecarn. He could have had a girlfriend at home, one who he might have married. I killed him. I am detestable. I am a monster. And little Palmer, who had only lived twelve years, twelve short years breathing in coal dust and playing with his friends. Did I play when I was twelve? Probably.

It feels like so much more than eight. Shuddering waves of contempt wrack my body, and I almost topple from my golden perch multiple times before I wake Reef for his watch.

_I sit on the Cornucopia. Suddenly two people sit on either side of me. One is Orion, the other is Vecarn. "Sister," Orion whispers sadly, "You're becoming like me. You're becoming a gamepiece. Murder can only be repaid in one fashion-"_

"_- death," Vecarn finishes, and pulls my sword from his eye. He carefully slides it into the same spot on my body where it pierced his. I scream in agony. The pain dissipates when Orion wraps his arms around me._

"_Don't worry, Sol. You can join me when you've paid up."_

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><p><strong>:'( PALMER! He was a sweet little kiddo. And oh yeah, I'm grieving over the other bloodbath tributes too, don't think me heartless JUST yet. :)<strong>

**Poor Sol! This scene creeped me out so much when I was writing it, that dream sequence at the end is NOT something you should think about in the middle of the night. Even if Orion WAS the best big brother ever! Next chapter, the Games really get going! Reviews are VERY much appreciated.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Second day in the arena and eight tributes gone! And Sol is already having mental issues over the dead people! :/ Poor girl. This chapter is where it starts to get awesome, though. :) Please review!**

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><p>I jerk awake when the cannon fires. Reef, on watch, points at a cloud of pigeons fleeing the oncoming hovercraft. "Watch out for those," he says, utterly sincere, "I think they killed that tribute." Killed by pigeons? Well, this is the Hunger Games. Anything can happen.<p>

We're going hunting today. I strap two swords on my back and a dagger on my hip. I stuff my pockets with food while Hector gathers us in a circle. "Storme, you're guarding today." That makes sense; he got the lowest score of the Careers in training. "Zell and Reef have already requested to hunt Scythe together, so they'll be following his tracks that way," he points to the southeastern end of the city. District 4 is going downtown. "And Blossom, Sol, and I will split up in the northern part, search as much of it as we can cover, all right?" Everyone nods assent.

Blossom, Hector, and I walk warily down what would be Main Street. Hector turns down an alleyway not ten minutes into the hunt, and Blossom ducks into a towering steel skyscraper. I wander aimlessly through the city-arena, waiting to stumble upon another tribute. A shadow moves along the wall on my street, and I unsheathe my swords. The shadow disappears, but not before I see that it was a dog. I wonder if it's anything like the pigeons.

Suddenly, howling sounds around the corner. I flatten myself against the wall and cross my swords over my chest protectively. Gentia, the girl who said she would kill me, rounds the corner in the midst of a pack of the feral dogs. No cannon booms after she's out of sight, so either she escaped from the dogs or they weren't attacking. The day wears on fruitlessly and the sun beats down on my head. I duck inside a stout concrete building and I'm about to tear into my lunch when a cannon booms. "NO! Not her!" a boy shouts, his voice carrying across the city. I hope it's Scythe who's been emotionally hurt- no that would mean little Azalea died. Soon, the hovercraft removes the corpse, but I'm not able to tell who it is. I hurriedly finish my lunch and take up my weapons again. I order myself to keep moving and show no mercy. Creeping along the sides of buildings, I navigate the labyrinthine arena. Several times, the killer pigeons fly over me, but they seem to have no interest in flying low.

Suddenly, a pack of dogs barrels toward me. I know there's no point in trying to outrun the beasts, so I try the next best thing: I leap through the next set of doors I see and set my sword in the handles as a lock. It turns out that this Capitol creation is pretty easy to outsmart; they don't have opposable thumbs or super strength or anything. They whine and scratch at the door for a few minutes, but eventually they lope off and I exit the building. Shaken, I begin my way back to the Cornucopia. The sun is beginning to set and Storme has been waiting all day for us to return. As I approach Second Street, a shadow passes over me. I duck, thinking it is pigeons, but it's a parachute, going to deliver a special gift. I could follow it and kill its recipient- true Career thought, that one is- but I need to get back to camp.

I've only walked another block when I hear a scuffle, and the sound of breaking glass. I'm drawn to the noise like a moth to light, but I hesitate before turning into the alley where the noise is emanating from. Hector is speaking to his victim in a low voice. "Girl, you're in the freaking Games, you might as well while you're alive!"

"Never!" the aforementioned girl snarls back. I recognize her as Ashe, from Seven.

"I'll even let you live," Hector bribes. No, he wouldn't. He's a ruthless Career.

"I'd rather die!" Ashe hisses. If the cameras weren't here before, they are now.

"Wish granted," sneers Hector. BOOM. I've got to get rid of this kid. He storms out of the alleyway, mercifully turning away from me and stomping down the street. As soon as Ashe is removed by the hovercraft, I dash to the scene of her death. A parachute is carefully concealed in the grimy corner, still unopened. Hector must have followed it to Ashe, like I considered doing. I carefully open it and remove the contents. A tiny vial of clear liquid. I uncork it and sniff. The scent is familiar… the edible plants station? Is this a drink? I lift it to my lips.

Then the rest of the memory comes flooding back. The trainer holding up _this scent_, introducing it as nightshade. The drink of the suicidal. Well, this could come in handy. I make the rendezvous point with Hector and Blossom safely.

"Thirteen left," Blossom says weakly.

"Yeah," I agree. _Less by tomorrow_. Hector cracks his knuckles.

"One of them was my kill," he boasts. Blossom looks at him admiringly.

"Who was it?" she asks.

"Girl from Eight. I followed her parachute." My theory has been proved. Walking in silence, we reach the Cornucopia again. Storme is perched inside, but he jumps down to greet us.

"Are Zell and Reef back?" I ask.

"Not yet." I toss my remaining food back into our pile and sit cross-legged against the weapons shed. The essence of nightshade weighs heavy in my pocket. "Reef!" Storme calls. When you're a Career, loud noises are fine, I suppose. The boy runs full speed towards us. He's alone. When he arrives, we bombard him with questions, although he's clearly exhausted.

"Where's Zell?"

"What happened?"

"Who did you run into?" Reef struggles to catch his breath and answer.

'Zell's dead. We were hunting Scythe, but he was hunting us. He ambushed us… downtown… about six blocks from here. Zell shot him once with her harpoon before he decapitated her with his scythe." Ah. So it was Reef that shouted at lunchtime. Scythe's habit of fighting with his namesake would be funny if he hadn't just killed my ally with it.

"Did you see anyone else?" Reef points at me. Me? When did he see me? We were on different sides of the arena!

"Her district partner. The tall, dark one." Falcon. Now his pointing makes sense. "He had this staff with blades at both ends. Either there are weapons elsewhere, or Sol here has no sponsors anymore. He never came to this shed." Then we all shut up about our competition.

I don't have first watch that night, but I stay awake to see the faces. Zell and then Ashe. So the one who died this morning is… Karic, from 9. Killed by pigeons, what a disgrace.

Storme shakes me awake for third watch. Assuming my position on the Cornucopia, I finger the vial of poison. As soon as I hear Storme snoring, I slip down.

I give myself three minutes to pack. I take my swords and two extra knives, two water bottles, a pack stuffed with food, a sleeping bag, and a tinder kit complete with flint and steel. I can't stay- whoever wakes up will see my guilty conscience.

I open the bottle of liquid death and stand over Hector. Never before has the Career alliance crumbled so quickly. I trickle a small stream of poison into his mouth. He's gone for sure. Then I look over to the remaining Careers. Reef, I think, went insane after Zell died, so he receives a sip of death too. While I'm at it, I might as well bring down the rest of them. Storm is easy to kill, but my hand falters as I bend over Blossom. Out of all the Careers, she was the only one who did not volunteer and she's been genuinely kind to me during training and even in the arena. I don't have the heart to murder the girl. So I run.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. I'm only a block away when the poison takes its toll. Blossom will awake to find the boys dead and me gone. What have I done? I can justify Hector's death in my mind, but Reef and Storme were ruthlessly murdered in cold blood. I'm a killer now.

I need to get somewhere safe. The cannon must have woken up every tribute still alive. I swerve into the building I'm running alongside. If Scythe or Jayre is hiding inside, so be it. I'm despicable and I deserve to die. The Capitol did this to me. I frantically search for something they gave me- I want to take it off, get it away. The lock of blue hair swings in front of my face as I wildly dig through my pack. I can get rid of that easily. My knife easily chops the turquoise out of my hair and for some reason, I feel better. I collect my wits and stumble around the gloomy building, looking for a place to hide. I discover a flight of stairs in the corner and begin to climb. I climb and climb and climb, until sleep overtakes me and I fall right there on the stairs unconscious.

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><p><strong>So, Sol thought Reef was insane, but now she thinks SHE'S the crazy one! MENTAL TRAUMA! MWHAHAHA! There was a LOT of death today, and I have to say, it was fun writing:) Especially Hector. You really have to wonder how mentally stable HE was :). Next chapter involves less death, but new characters (not really new, but more of some other characters you've met)! Sorry if you like death. Please review, and thanks for reading!<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**I lied- there are deaths in this chapter! Reviews are always loved. Thanks for reading! Let's wake Sol up now :).**

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><p>I wake up with sore legs and a guilty, guilty conscience. Realizing I'm utterly unprotected, I struggle to my feet and continue plodding up the stairs. Now that it's light outside again, I can see signs on the walls that tell what floor I have reached as I climb. I awoke, panicking, on Floor 27. I begin to relax when I reach Floor 42 with aching legs and no sign of enemies. My legs have gone numb by Floor 53. Finally, the stairs end in a doorway next to the brass sign with an embellished '60' on it. I twist the shiny doorknob and the steel door slides open silently. I emerge onto a rooftop that looks out over the city, which even from this vantage point seems to go on forever. Then I look at the rooftop itself and I see that it's littered with weapons and small packages of food, including a silver parachute attached to a picnic basket I could fit in easily. Two girls are crouching on the edge of the building, busily keeping watch over the city. One, however, hears the door shut with a gentle thud and breaks her vigil to confront me. She brandishes a whip and stalks forward, her face obscured by long dirty-blonde hair.<p>

"You're one of the Careers! How did you get in without us seeing you? Where are the rest of your allies?" she demands to know. It's Leris, which is the best luck I could have right now. Out of all the tributes, she's probably the least likely to kill me.

"Mostly dead. All except for me and Blossom, but we split up. I got here in the night." I reply vaguely. I don't want potential allies to think I murder everyone. Leris's eyes light up at the news of the broken Career pack and she seems to relax. "Where did you get all of this stuff?" I marvel.

"Yesterday we were trying to find a place to stay and we found a few knives in one building, a package of beef jerky in another, stuff like that. This was our camp the first night, so we came back last night. But the real survival stuff came from Azalea's sponsors." Azalea, who has been watching our exchange cautiously, stands and walks over at the mention of her name. She holds a knife tightly in one delicate hand. Of course this pretty girl is already getting gifts. I notice Leris holds a bow, but it's strung all wrong.

"Well, it looks like you could use a fighter," I offer. Neither of the two twelve-year-olds had training scores over five. I hold out my hand and Leris, after a small hesitation, shakes it. Alliance Number Two. The rest of the day passes slowly, and no more blood is spilled as the sun sets over the arena. I try to get to know my new allies.

"So, what part of Eleven were you from, Azalea?" I'm so bad at starting conversations.

"I lived in the area where we grew raspberries and potatoes," she replies wistfully, "My mom, dad, and I worked during planting and harvest, and my dad and mom were on teams that protected and cared for the crops. When I wasn't working, I took care of my little brothers. I had four of them, too- Idan, Jem, Arely, and Cuhn. They were all in school, though, so I was able to attend classes most of the year. I…I don't know how my family will be able to stay together if I die!" She starts shaking with her sobs, and I regret asking about her home.

"Well, at least you have siblings," I try to comfort her, "my brother Orion died in the Quarter Quell last year." My eyes tear up too, and suddenly we're both crying. Great, that makes us look like victors. Leris watches us both until our eyes have run dry, drawing on the cement rooftop with a charred stick. I'm blinking away my last tears and swiping at my red eyes when I catch sight of her sketch. It's a huge dog, maybe even a wolf, nudging a girl's cheek as she strokes its alert ears. Leris catches me watching her draw and smiles sadly.

"In the forests outside Twelve, there are wolves that romp through the forests. When my mom was killed by Peacekeepers, I ran to the forest, and one of the wolves found me and lay down at my feet like it was protecting me. That's who I want to get home to," she explains. The drawing is amazing; I can almost feel the affection between the two sketched beings. Then the Capitol seal is projected in the sky and we all forget the sob stories for a moment.

The Career boys are the only faces in the sky that night, and seeing them ratchets my guilt back up to last night's level. Soon the Gamemakers will pull the other tributes back into the spotlight.

Since we're so hard to reach, reasons Azalea, we don't need to keep night watches going. Because of this, we don't awake until the dogs are growling horribly loud at the bottom of our building. By the time we overcome the initial bleary moment of panic and make it to the roof's edge, the snarls and howls are diminishing. However, as the Capitol says, the action is just beginning. Two tributes have been driven together at the bottom of our skyscraper. Taylor and Scythe. Both are injured with multiple dog bites, and Scythe has a harpoon wound from Zell in his left leg. They see each other simultaneously and Scythe draws his ironic scythe. Taylor has no weapon. Beside me peering over the side of the building, Azalea winces. She realizes about how long this fight will last. I brace myself for Taylor's cannon.

But Taylor surprises us, most of all Scythe. Spinning his weapon, he jauntily approaches the wiry District Three girl. She ducks his first swing and his sneer is visible from our perch. It's wiped right off his ugly face when Taylor pops him in the jaw. He swings again, a little harder. She dodges again. Scythe is used to easy kills and Taylor is already aggravating him. Azalea has told us that Scythe told her on the train that he would kill her in the arena. We see Taylor punch him again; this time the blow hits Scythe in the ribs. Swing, dodge. Swing, dodge, punch. When the girl I previously thought too nerdy to do much physical harm kicks the District 11 boy in the gut hard, his pain becomes evident. Taylor takes full advantage of Scythe's disability. She charges to his side, rips the scythe from his hand, and jerks his head to the side. BOOM. The audience will go insane, knowing that Leris, Azalea, and I saw the full skirmish. Taylor walks off a little way while his body is collected, then picks up the now-ownerless scythe. We wait with bated breath to see what the girl will do next.

The barking returns. A girl appears a little ways down the street, running toward Taylor. She's got a pack of feral dogs hot on her heels, and I think she's dead meat. But then she whistles a sharp note and her pack surges forward. Taylor raises her newly gained scythe and attempts to stand her ground, but she has no chance against twelve powerful hounds. They overwhelm her, and she screams in agony. BOOM. The girl calls her dogs away from the body, and that's when I realize who she is. District Ten's Gentia, who promised to kill me while we were in training. Of course! District Ten is livestock, where they use dogs to herd and hunt various other animals. Gentia sneers at Taylor's broken body and turns to leave with her pack.

Two faces appear that night. While I pity their families, I do not have to relive their deaths in my guilty dreams.

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><p><strong>Welcome to the New Alliance, Sol! Have fun with Leris and Azalea while you can. :)<strong>

**Taylor! :'( She was awesome. Scythe was a jerk, I'm glad he's gone. Next chapter, - ah, well, if you care you'll come back. (It's a good one, though!) Please review! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

**Time to really introduce another character! Whee!**

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><p>We awake with the sun beating down on us. No attacks ring across the arena, no cannon booms out. Azalea squeals with joy when she sees the parachute beside her head, and we rip it open gleefully. There are three swords, a bow, and a full quiver of arrows. Azalea hefts two swords gingerly, and I snatch up the other one. Leris runs her hands over the bow like it's the only thing she's ever lived for.<p>

"Put it down," I say. When she looks up quizzically, I toss her a sword. "Your strength is archery- we need to work on hand-to-hand combat instead." She lays the bow in the doorway. I nod to Azalea, and she tosses me one of her swords. "Now, both of you attack me," I order. Azalea gasps, and Leris rolls her eyes.

"Not really attack, but spar," she explains to her inexperienced ally. With this sort of innocence, I'm surprised Azalea made it away from the bloodbath. Azalea grasps the hilt with both hands and tentatively swings at me. I easily parry her strike, but Leris comes in from the left and her blow is slightly harder to block. Actually, it's pretty good for a girl who specializes in long-range weapons. I send strikes in their directions. Leris successfully blocks my stroke, but Azalea squeaks, drops her weapon, and steps back. I sigh. I guess this girl is not going to be trained and ready to fight for her life by the afternoon. I tell her she can sit out and spar with Leris instead. I teach her backstrokes, blocks, and offensive moves. Hopefully it'll help her live a little longer. By now, it is mid-afternoon. The Capitol crowd must be sated, at least for a little while. Suddenly, a massive black cloud appears over downtown. "Pigeons!" Leris cries and we dive into the stairwell- our haven from the killer birds. Before I arrived, Azalea and Leris had had several visits from the mutts.

SLAM! A faint echo from the main door of the skyscraper closing reaches our nervous ears. The pigeons have chased another tribute into the building. We stiffen in fear. At least it's a limited number of options; besides us, only Blossom, Falcon, Chas, and District Ten are still alive. Whoever it is, we hope they don't discover the stairs. Then we heard the faintest sound of footsteps, echoing louder and louder. They did find the way up!

"Might as well face them now," I whisper. Leris and Azalea nod assent and we descend. According to the signs on the walls, we arrive on floor 32 with pounding hearts and sinking stomachs when a shadowy figure rounds the corner. He shouts and, startled, I hold him at swordpoint. "Who are you?" I demand harshly.

"Sol!" he exclaims, "at least you're someone I know! I heard your footsteps and I was afraid you might be Jayre or Gentia- they're plain cruel. Or Chas- I think he's gone insane. All of them are sadistic!" Leris and Azalea bristle as Falcon knocks the blade from my astonished hand with his double-bladed staff and steps forward out of the shadows.

"Who is he?" Azalea snarls.

"Falcon, my district partner. It's okay- he's a friend. Falcon, this is Leris and that's Azalea." Then I turn my attention fully back to the boy. "What have you been doing, and where did you get that staff?" He rolls the weapon in his hand thoughtfully, and I retrieve my sword warily.

"I've been on the other side of the arena. There's a colossal wall there that I think goes around the entire city. It's at least twenty yards up, and much too smooth for anyone to scale. The staff- it was a gift from the sponsors. Have you gotten anything?"

"No. I scowl. Classic Capitol preferences, picking the pretty ones to save. At least I'm allied with two of them. I wonder if Leris feels the same way.

We trek back up to the roof with feet made of iron. However, our hearts are lifted with the prospective benefits of another ally.

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><p><strong>Sorry that this one is so short- the next chapter will be amazing Games stuff, I promise. I couldn't combine this with it though, because there are two boring days in-between! This will be the last slow chapter. Please review and keep reading!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Here we go! More action in this chapter! Hope you guys like it :) Please review!**

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><p>On the seventh night in the arena, the temperature drops and frost begins to form on our rooftop. We wake up at midnight with chattering teeth. "We've got to get inside," Leris says, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. With numb fingers, we gather as much food and as many weapons as we can and shuffle to the stairwell. The combined forces of Falcon and me can barely force open the frozen door, but we manage and haul ourselves inside. Too exhausted to return for any other supplies, we crash right there inside the door. We're dead meat if anyone else shows up or if someone wakes up and decides to get ahead in the Games. I cup my hands over my mouth and nose to try and thaw them out, and that's how I fall asleep. When we come to, the temperature has again risen and from the tiny window we can see that the frost is gone. However, there's another, more life-threatening problem. Hundreds of the killer pigeons have settled onto our camp, and by the looks of the makeshifts nests, they won't be leaving soon. Our salvaged packs only contain enough food for one day- the rest of our stores are being pecked through by the birds.<p>

"We'll have to leave," decides Azalea. Falcon and Leris murmur assent, and I nod curtly, my lips cracked and pained by the cold. I'm stiff from rolling down several stairs in my sleep, and walking down sixty flights of the stairs almost kills me. How embarrassed would my district be if one of their tributes died from falling down some stairs? It's the eight day, and there are eight tributes left. I love it when coincidences like that happen. One year, when I was no more than six, the Games lasted for twenty-three days, with one tribute dying each day. The Gamemakers made that happen; they sent an earthquake to stop the bloodbath, and drove tributes together each day until only one remained. But this year, I'm sure a Gamemaker somewhere is planning to mess that up today.

We decide to go back to the Cornucopia, to pick over what's left of the Career stronghold. We buried some food, and Blossom wouldn't have had enough space in her pack to take it all with her. And even if every tribute fully armed themselves after I poisoned the Career boys, there would still be a good-sized pile of weapons left over. I think Falcon was irritated that I went with the Careers even after my brother was killed by one of the brutes last year, but it meant relative safety for a while. Even if I was the one who terminated that safety. It doesn't matter now.

When we reach the park, the first thing I see is the empty vial of nightshade that contained three deaths, four if you count Ashe's. I'm still pondering what her plans would have been if Hector had not seen her gift when he emerges from the Cornucopia. Chas, Taylor's district partner, wields an axe and a small stun gun that I recognize from the Career stash. Falcon's holding his double-bladed staff and my swords are easily unsheathed, but Leris's bow is unstrung and Azalea only has a long knife. How overconfident did we get? Chas attacks Azalea first. Her sword scrapes along the axe blade and she manages to deflect the powerful strike, but he darts in on her other side and shoots her in the arm with the stun gun. Her right side is paralyzed so she can't use her knife, and he buries the axe in her stomach. No cannon fires. Her inevitable death will be agonizing. Leris is fumbling with the bowstring when Chas swings the axe at her, and she ends up preventing the axe from cleaving her head in two with the bow, which splinters. She twists to avoid the stun gun, but her momentum carries her directly into the path of the axe, which cleanly decapitates her. My heart freezes in fury. BOOM. Azalea still lives, but blood is pooling around her torso and her agonized cries have faded to whimpers. Chas finishes her with another hard blow to her gut. BOOM. Now I have both swords unsheathed. I scream at Chas, "THOSE WERE MY FRIENDS!" I don't care who hears. Enough adrenaline is coursing through my veins to slaughter them all. He looks at me and sneers.

"It's unwise to make friends in the Games, girl," he jeers. I'll show him how unwise _he_ is. The axe slams against my sword, jarring my entire body. I jab at his chest, aiming for the heart, but he dodges. Trying to stun me, he swings both weapons at once. So do I. The sword that collided with his axe snaps at once and leaves a gash on my arm, but the one that was blocking the stun gun overshoots the weapon and severs his hand with a wet squelch. He clutches the stump and screams in pain. He has dropped his weapon, and I am almost satisfied. Just one more blow…

Falcon charges in form behind me and his staff is smashing into Chas's skull. Glory stealer. The District 3 boy coughs up a mouthful of blood and collapses. BOOM. Falcon has to drag me away from the park to prevent me from mauling the body of the boy who killed those two little girls. I trip over a pothole and Falcon plops me down on the steps of an office building. My fighting spirit has deserted me, leaving me to care for the gash on my arm and no energy to care for it. Not even energy enough to protest when Falcon carries me to the roof. A few hours later he returns with two packs of food, two sleeping bags, and a clattering pile of weather. As he sharpens his staff blades, I choose new gear. A dozen darts that are easily concealed in my jacket, a belt with sheaths for three knives, and the daggers that fit, and the lone sword in the pile are immediately snatched up. I top off my new arsenal with a coil of rope, whatever that could be used for. _I hope the Gamemakers are happy with projecting three faces tonight_, I think, tears filling my eyes as Azalea and Leris appear in the night sky after Chas.

I sleep for much of Day Nine. When I finally awake, Falcon is just climbing back onto the roof. I snatch the bandage he offers me and wrap up my scabbed arm. "No deaths yet today," he says as he crouches next to me. I would have woken up if the cannon had fired, but I'll let him chat. "I'm gonna make you take an extra-long watch tonight, Sol," he says, half0jokingly. I roll my eyes.

"You do that, Falcon." I roll over and go back to sleep.

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><p><strong>NOOO! Azalea! You were so adorable! Leris, with her wolves that she'll never get back to! :'( It was fun killing off Chas. Please review and keep reading!<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Here we go! Only five tributes left! Hope you guys enjoy. :)**

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><p>Falcon kept his word and woke me up after the anthem had finished playing. I sit on the edge of the building with my legs dangling over the side. My wound seems to have stopped bleeding, but I change the bandage anyway, just to be safe. My eyes finally finish adjusting to the dark arena and I scan the streets below me. Only two blocks down the street are the park and the Cornucopia. I see no tributes there, but who knows? One could be holed up in the golden horn like Chas had been when he attacked Azalea and Leris.<p>

I see no one and hear nothing. I'm not surprised, since there are only five of us left, but I do not put it above the Gamemakers to drive us all together in the middle of the night. Tomorrow the Capitol crowd will be hungry for our blood, and I fully expect to die during the final battle. Blossom is eighteen and has been training for the Games her whole life. Jayre is vicious and sadistic, and his district partner Gentia is no different. They both explicitly stated that they would kill me during training. I'm the weakest tribute left alive, only able to kill when my enemies are asleep. If I really thought I could win, I would get ahead right now and murder Falcon. Except, he's my district partner, and there's nothing more despicable to a district than having one tribute kill their partner. If they win, they will be shunned for the remainder of their lives. Well, they'll be hated for the rest of their lives anyway, but normally they die instead of making it home.

Even after two watches' time has passed, I am not sleepy again, so I stay awake. There is no sign of Gentia, Blossom, or Jayre. It is eerily silent; even Gentia's dogs are nowhere in earshot as dawn begins to creep over the horizon. If the horizon is real, that is. Only when the entire sky is light do I shake Falcon to consciousness. "You stayed up all night?" he asks incredulously.

"Yeah, and I slept all day," I reply. A sudden rumbling seems to split my ears. I leap off my ledge and dash to the other side of the roof. Across the park, I see a section of buildings collapse. Falcon and I are already armed, so we ditch our supplies and run. Leaping down the steps two, three at a time, we rush from the concrete building lest it collapse beneath us. Even though the rumblings continue, no more buildings collapse. We figure it's still safer to remain on the ground, so we start walking. Falcon wants to go back to the Cornucopia since it's the only place that's not surrounded by potentially unstable walls. I think that's where the other tributes will go, too. I'm not ready for that battle yet, but I can't think of anywhere better to go. Still, I direct Falcon in the opposite direction.

It soon becomes clear that the Gamemakers are ready, and they're not going to give in to my protests. Streets crumble before us, forcing us to turn back. Judging by the cannonless screams across the arena, the same is happening to either Gentia or Blossom. On our trek, we see no dogs or pigeons. I keep trying to avoid the Cornucopia, but streets force me closer to the dreaded horn. Eventually, I give in and Falcon takes the lead back to the park. This direction, the path is (relatively) safe and clear, no collapsing streets or earthquakes. The closer we get, the slower we walk. I brace myself for agony.

"Get out your sword!" Falcon hisses. I oblige, just as I hear footsteps dangerously near. Before their source can find us, I grab Falcon's shoulder and pull him with me into the sunny park. We stand back-to-back, ready to fight. I'm sure our district is proud. At home, I know our parents will be wiping tears of pride and anxiety from their eyes. Even if we don't return, we will be honored.

Two golden spears, crossed to form an 'X', bob just behind the trees where Falcon and I just ran from behind. They enter the park, followed by a mane of very pale blond hair and a pair of cruel ice-blue eyes. Gentia. Without her dogs, she's not as powerful. I wonder for a moment where they went. I shake the thought from my head as I realize those two spears are still highly formidable. On the other side of the Cornucopia, I see a boy covered in dust stumble into the park. Jayre must have been hiding in the section where the building collapsed. District 10 has arrived. So where's Blossom? I don't have time to wonder as Gentia attacks us. Jayre doesn't seem to notice us yet, so we must be blocked from view by the Cornucopia.

Falcon lunges toward Gentia. She easily catches his staff with her spears, and then makes a motion to stab him with one of them, so I have to jump in. I grab the spear pole and she snarls at me. She jerks it back and rips apart the palm of my hand in the process. I wrap both stinging hands around the golden pole then and she can't block Falcon's staff blade. BOOM. For a top-five tribute, she died too easily. Her servile dogs made her go out of practice with real weapons. I look around the arena to see what the other tributes are up to. Jayre has seen us, probably when Gentia's cannon fired, and he charges toward us. Suddenly, Blossom appears from the city with a crossbow in hand. She sees me and narrows her eyes. I killed Storme- she wants my blood. The arrow thunks into the Cornucopia now two feet from my face. Jayre swerves on his path towards Falcon and rushes at Blossom instead. She changes priority. The boy takes an arrow in his knee, but it's not a mortal wound. He only pauses to remove it, and then he continues his blood-crazed run. He pulls off a bronze shield that was slung over his shoulder and deflects what could have easily been two killing shots. Blossom quickly realizes that he's not stopping, but she's got no other weapon. Even if she did, she's not that good in hand-to-hand combat. Her hands fly up in a futile effort to defend herself and Jayre sneers as his swords pierces her bare throat. My former ally collapses, hacking up blood and writhing in horrible convulsions. BOOM.

Three tributes left, and two of them are from Five. Jayre can't seem to decide which of us to attack first, so I make the choice easy. I charge him.

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><p><strong>AHHH CLIFFHANGER! I am not sorry, either. Goodbye to Blossom, Jayre, and Gentia. Next chapter will be what you citizens of the Capitol have been waiting for! Please review!<strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**Finally, another chapter! Only one more after this! I don't know if I'm happy or sad about that... Well, R&R! :D**

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><p>Adrenaline pumps through my veins as our razor-sharp blades collide. I can immediately tell that Jayre is much stronger than me as the force of his blow makes me stagger back several steps. I can only hope that he isn't in the mood for torturing his victims today. He spins his sword as he steps forward, then he pushes it against my blade until the weapon is hovering not an inch from my unprotected throat. I see his other arm rising to smash his bronze shield against my undefended face. I desperately kick out, slamming the heel of my foot into the back of his injured knee. He groans in pain, and I allow a small burst of hope to bloom in the back of my tortured mind. He's got immense strength, but I just might have enough strategy to defeat him. I kick again while he's still trying to stand back up, and that's where my strategy fails.<p>

Jayre grabs my ankle and gives it a short, sharp, ferocious twist. Something cracks and I gasp in pain as black spots dance before my eyes, making the whole world swoop and spin. I collapse against the Cornucopia with my foot at a very odd angle, closing my eyes tightly as he raises his sword for the final deadly blow.

CLANG! I'm… not dead. In fact, I haven't even gone numb. I'm in total and complete agony; I should be dead. I look up in bafflement. Except for the fact that Falcon, who was sort of shell-shocked after we killed Gentia, has intervened and is now battling Jayre, I should be very, very dead.

Why did he bother to step in? He could have easily won the Games, seeing as I would have died and Jayre is seriously wounded. I think back through all the time I've had since the reaping. I look back on what he's done for me. He helped me kill Chas and Gentia. Carried me to the roof after Leris and Azalea died. Woke me up on the train when we first arrived in the Capitol. Introduced me to Ashe and Range, now both dead. Got upset when I joined the Careers.

He loves me.

That in itself is horribly disturbing. I guess it's sort of a brotherly love, perhaps a crush since we'd never met before the reaping. I didn't know he existed before then- we didn't even live in the same sector! I sure hope it is a brotherly love; having a crush on a girl three years younger than you is creepy to me. I'll never understand boys, not for the rest of my life. However long _that_ may be. I can't help my district partner; I'm forced to sit against the Cornucopia with my badly broken ankle and watch Falcon fight to the death.

Jayre tries to slash Falcon's throat, but the staff goes up and the other sharp end flashes towards Jayre's unprotected torso. It grazes the boy's side instead. As the staff is horizontal, Jayre swings out at Falcon's head and hits it with a dull thudding sound. Falcon drops to his knees, seeming dazed, but he manages to shake himself back to reality quickly and sweeps Jayre's feet from beneath him before he can land another blow. Now both boys are kneeling. Jayre can't get up fast on his injured knee, so he rains a flurry of blows on Falcon's staff, effectively keeping him down too. Suddenly he changes directions in midair and slices a deep gash down Falcon's shoulder, chest, and side. Falcon roars in pain and I can see his muscles tense, spraying blood everywhere. I gag on the metallic tang when several drops fly into my gaping mouth. Jayre must have hit a major nerve or something, because Falcon loses all use of his right arm. His left arm isn't the one he normally fights with, and Jayre easily knocks the staff away now. Falcon is able to struggle to his feet, though. I try to toss him my sword, but Jayre deflects it with his shield as it whirls through the air. Gritting his teeth, the District Ten boy leaps to his feet. He smirks cruelly and draws his blade through the deep wound he inflicted earlier. Falcon involuntarily flinches, but he tries to hold his ground. As Jayre reaches the end of the gash, he makes a sudden move and plunges the sword through fabric and flesh all the way through Falcon's heart. My district partner dies bravely.

_BOOM_. It's down to me and Jayre now. He favors his left leg, and I can't use my right foot at all. I might as well die fighting; I'm surprised I made it this far. First, though, I must stand. I scrabble for Falcon's staff, which fell near me when it was tossed to the side. I use it to pull myself up to a standing position. The heavy pole is as tall, perhaps taller, than me. I unsheathe my sword. Smirking the same smirk he grinned when he killed Falcon, Jayre brandishes his sword and shield with a flourish. I brace myself against the golden horn behind me and prepare to block as many blows as I possibly can before my little remaining strength gives out. He slams against my blade, jarring my entire body again and again. Five blows in, I can barely manage to postpone my death. Then, I see my opportunity.

Balancing carefully on the staff with both arms, I kick him again on his bad knee with my good foot. His face contorts into a grotesque mask of agony. "You're just a little kicker, aren't you?" he sneers. He knocks my sword away with his next powerful strike. He raises his blade for the final kill, but hesitates as a wave of pain threatens to sweep him away. I reach over my shoulder, desperately grasping for a nonexistent sword handle. I find the coil of rope instead. I don't hesitate to throw the thing in his face and hope it distracts him. It sure shocks him, anyway, and I snatch it up from the ground and toss it at his legs. It entangles him, knocking him over. At the same time, the staff wobbles and I fall to the ground too.

"So close… almost home," Jayre gasps as I impale him on the blade of Falcon's staff without a second thought. _BOOM_. Claudius Templesmith's voice reverberates through the arena on some sort of intercom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," -they call the Capitol creatures ladies and gentlemen?-, "I give you the winner of the Twenty- Sixth Hunger Games: District Five's Sol Ebony!" As the hovercraft lifts me up, I wrap my arms around Falcon's bloody staff. I want to give it to his family.

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><p><strong>So, I keep getting all this stuff about how people LOVE Falcon. Sorry to his fangirls, but at least Jayre didn't win! ;) Again, only one chapter left after this. :):( I love all you guys who read this.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Well, here's the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who's read this story, and kept up with Sol. I love you all! :)**

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><p>Sickened by the thought of a city- any city- I refuse to look out of the window for the hovercraft ride back. The Capitol attendant says that I am the first victor who hasn't passed out within the first five minutes of the flight, but the word 'victor' grates harshly on my ears. Sure, I survived, but at the price of twenty-three other lives. Twenty three kids who had many years yet to live, with families, friends, and maybe even girlfriends and boyfriends at home. Some of their dreams were shattered by the two hands and the staff that lay on my lap. I think of Jayre's last words. <em>So close… almost home<em>, and I end up disappointing the Capitol attendant four and a half minutes into the hovercraft ride.

I curl up on the soft bed and bury my filthy face in the down pillow that was mine for a week. I get less than ten minutes of peace before Fali bursts squealing into the room. She strips off the arena outfit that I've been wearing for ten days off my emaciated body and shoves me into the shower. As she scrubs the many layers of dirt and several layers of skin down the drain, she seems to bounce between two personalities. "I can't believe they still aren't giving us help with this," she mutters, "the stylists' job is to design, not wash!" Then she brightens- "Five finally has a victor! Maybe I'll get promoted this time!" I sit patiently until she deems me fit to dress for the final interview. I learned patience in that stupid, hideous arena? What a lesson. What a cost.

Another dress makes me cringe as Fali shoves it at me ruthlessly. If I won the Hunger Games, why am I still being treated like an animal led to slaughter? Finally, I accept the dress and wriggle into it. It takes a lot of wriggling to do so, as the garment is very snug. I thought it would be loose; most final interview outfits don't account for the weight loss in the arena. Fali is smarter than her Capitolized appearance makes her out to be.

The thing has a soft gray skirt that has wisps of silver cloth trailing from it, mimicking the mist of a geyser. The part that squeezes my torso is sleeveless and one half is patterned as ocean waves and the other as if in a fiery furnace. My face is streaked with coal dust like war paint, and my hair is wind-tousled.

I shoot through the swiftest elevator I've yet to ride in into a small room in a tall tower that overlooks all of the Capitol. Only a small crowd sits in the audience of the room, and most of them are cameramen and reporters. Most citizens, even those of the Capitol, will have to watch this event on television.

Pairo slaps me on the back as the elevator door opens, almost making me collapse. My broken ankle isn't entirely healed yet. My mentor apologizes and gives me Falcon's staff to lean on while I walk to my seat. I perch on a solitary chair that sits on a slightly elevated platform. Across from me is Sunsh- Caesar Flickerman. In the first row of the audience are Pairo, Fali, President Snow, and Head Gamemaker Julius Goldyn. The last two are the creators of my misery and mental torment. I hate them with a burning passion. Flickerman starts the ball rolling almost immediately after I sit down.

"So, Sol, what did you think of the arena this year?" I see Julius Goldyn smile slightly.

"It was… interesting," I stumble over the words, my tongue feeling a foot thick and seemingly only able to speak vulgar words readily, "I don't think anyone expected it, and it certainly had the potential for elaborate obstacles.

"What was your key to winning?"

"Well, I made sure all the tributes knew me at least a little bit. I thought it would be harder for them to kill me if they knew me."

"Did that make it hard for you to kill them in return?"

"Yeah- I couldn't kill Blossom, and I wouldn't have been able to kill Leris, Azalea, or Falcon."

"Ah, yes. Your district partner. I believe that's his staff you're holding?" I nod. I sincerely hope he doesn't ask any deep questions about that guy, because eventually it could get awkward. He always manages to embarrass victors about their district partners. I can just imagine Sunshine Face saying _'So what happened on the rooftop that night?'_ Luckily, the man goes off on a different tangent, about the power of a single weapon in the hands of multiple people. Real deep, Flickerman. Just like three years back when the boy from One stabbed his girlfriend with her own spear. I just wait for him to get back on track.

"Which kill was the hardest, Sol?" asks one of the reporters, yelling over Happy Face Man.

"The first and the last. The first was the one that messes with your mind, but the last has all the other kills pile don top of it and you know it's gonna be your last either way, so you're really stressed out." Flickerman has gotten back on track now, and pats my hand sympathetically. I automatically pull away. Another Capitol person takes the opportunity to yell out.

"I liked Falcon better! Why couldn't you have died?" I almost laugh, but it hurts. It's not as emotionally painful as murdering someone, but it sickens me to realize the cruelty of the Capitol. I wonder if the girl who screamed when Falcon was reaped ever thought the same thing.

Caesar comes to my rescue with a hurried, "Let's get these recaps over with, folks!" I slump down in my seat as the light flicker off, wanting to disappear.

I try not to pay attention to the three-hour recap, but some things catch painfully in my brain anyway. Some things are new to me: I see Chas barely escape from Jayre, Taylor slide halfway into a pit of acid, Gentia befriend the dog pack, Falcon discover the outer wall, and Karic try to catch pigeons before he knew what they could do. I see Hector follow Ashe's parachute and wonder for what must be the hundredth time, _what was that girl planning_? I see my hand falter as I stand over Blossom with the poison. I see Leris, Azalea, Vecarn, Gentia, Chas, Taylor, Scythe, and Falcon collapse dead.

Over and over, I see myself plunge Falcon's staff into Jayre's heart.

BOOM.

BOOM.

BOOM. Every time a cannon fires, I'm back in that arena. Then the video is over.

The next morning, I'll be headed home, and I can't say I'm quite ready. In fact, I'm dreading it. Sure, I get to see my mom, dad, Bright, and home again, but there's a little bit of a problem with the ride there. All the tributes are riding on the same sleek train.

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><p><strong>Is it still OK to say R&amp;R? I guess so. Well, R&amp;R, everyone! And don't forget to use the Oxford comma!<strong>


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